


Head Over Feet

by AmberTheDork



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Reibert, Craigslist AU, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Online Friendship, Side of Springles, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberTheDork/pseuds/AmberTheDork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschtein thinks he’s the coolest guy in the world because he owns a motorcycle, even though he has a dead-end job and a shitty apartment. With an upcoming weekend off of work, he finds himself going on Craigslist, where he answers a personal ad from a stressed out med student named Marco Bodt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Had No Choice But To Hear You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written AoT fanfiction. And the first time I've written fanfiction in four years. I'm sorry if this sucks.

Thursdays are easily my least favorite day of the week. I can’t place why they suck, but they do. They suck big time balls. Maybe it’s because rent is always due on a Thursdays when I get paid Fridays. Or because I have to help close and stay an hour late to clean up.

Or maybe it’s because the asswipe known as Eren Jeager works the corndog shack across from my cash register and throws pieces of corndog at me when I’m not looking.

All my Thursdays are spent glaring at Eren and picking greasy pieces of bread out of my hair. Whenever I have the chance, I toss a spare penny at him and laugh whenever that asshole has to cover up his anger for the families wanting a disgusting corndog.

Our manager only ever complains about our hatred when we make a mess or disturb a customer. That hasn’t happened since the first month we worked together. Mike, our manager, started finding it funny whenever we’re forced to act civil. So, as his own kind of cruel joke, he decided to make sure I work at the same damn register the only day Eren works the corndog shithouse.

What an asshole.

At least I’m only forced to deal with Eren on Thursdays. During the rest of the week, I stock shelves, work at the Starbucks, and take care of the carts while Eren works on the complete opposite side of the store.

Target’s not the greatest place to work at, but it’s better than CVs or Wal-Mart or wherever rednecks like to shop. It pays enough, I get a nice discount, and my co-workers who aren’t Eren are nice and easy-going.

Christa’s easily my favorite co-worker, right next to the guy who gives me his bag of chips every day at lunch. There’s only five minutes left before we have to lock the doors, and Christa’s hurrying to scan all the items for the last three customers. It still amazes me at how dedicated this girl is to her work. She always asks for more hours, even though it’s clear her tiny body is always tired, and works harder than anyone else.

She’s also, without a doubt, the prettiest and nicest girl who works here.

I stand by the doors watching her work, ready to lock up the place and get the last hour of work done while reminding myself that flirting is off limits for the night because Christa has a girlfriend.

It figures. The good ones are always taken.

The thought leaves my mind as soon as it comes, and I continue thinking about how much I want these people to get the hell out of the store. When the last person fina-fucking-ly leaves, I lock the doors and let out a loud, annoyed groan.

“God, what a fucking day.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair and heading to Christa’s station.

“Long day?” She asks, covering her mouth as she let out a small yawn. I nod.

“Fucking Thursdays.” I groan. Christa nods, already knowing about my extreme hatred towards Eren and staying late. Maybe I shouldn’t be complaining about it when I think Christa works late every night. Whatever. “How’d you handle?”

Christa shrugs and plays with a button on her red shirt. She smiles anyways like the angel she is.

“Okay. Ymir promised me dinner and cinnamon buns when I get home.” She giggles, her hand moving to play with her hair. “So that’s been keeping me going today.”

“Lucky you,” I tease, “I have a case of beer and Reddit to keep me company when I get home.”

Christa hums and I take that as a sign our small talk is done. I look around the lobby to make sure all the register lights are off and take in the damage from the day. It seems clean enough to neglect for one night. Why the fuck can’t Mike handle this? It’s closing and giving orders his job?

“You work tomorrow, right?” She asks. I nod.

“Ten to six.” I comment. “You wanna get the clothes and junk? I’ll check around the store and get someone to help you out.”

“Do you want a cinnamon bun?” She asks randomly. I lose my train of thought and look at her in confusion. “I can bring you one tomorrow. Ymir usually gets extras for us, but I can bring you one if you’d like.”

What a fucking angel, goddamn. I wish I was her girlfriend.

Wait, what?

“Um . . .sure, okay.” I gather myself and smile at her. “I mean, yeah. Why not? It’ll probably make tomorrow go by smoother.”

Christa smiles and nods.

“Okay.” She moves out from behind the station and starts heading in the direction of the clothes. “I’ll see you when we’re done.”

An hour later, we met quiet and tired in the backroom with a few other co-workers I don’t care to learn the name of. Christa’s yawning more and barely managing to get a word out as she grabs her purse and shuts her locker. She leaves with a tiny goodbye and I hope she remembers my cinnamon bun.

I grab my helmet and tug my oversized hoodie on before leaving too.

The air is chilly—no surprise since it’s October—but I still manage a fat smile when I near my prized Buell Blast Standard motorcycle in the parking lot.

Riding home on this beauty, feeling the vibrations through my bones, smelling the (sometimes not too pleasant) air, and listening to the majestic purr of the engine almost makes up for the sucky day. Sure, I’ve had this bike for two years now and bought it off of some guy who smelled like rat piss, but I still feel like a king whenever I get on. Even if it’s late and cold like tonight. Honestly, it’s probably the best part of my life, right next to my fridge and computer. As sad as that sounds, it’s true.

But I’m happy with my life and how it’s been going. I have a nice body, a kickass motorcycle that drives like a dream, friends who are fun to hang with, a job that pays enough, and an apartment that isn’t complete shit.

There are some downsides to my life, but what’s a life without some.

I haven’t talked to my parents since my dad told me not to come back without a girlfriend and a college degree, I hardly have any spending money after bills and food, my laptop has a crack in the screen, and my apartment is freezing 24/7, even in the fucking summer. I still don’t know how that’s possible.

I could say Eren’s one of the downsides, but we’ve known each other since junior high. Our bantering has become just another part of life for me, and I probably couldn’t stand not having him around to take my anger out on.

Our friend Armin actually recorded us last summer when we admitted we couldn’t imagine a life without each other. Right after we got into a fight that gave Eren a black eye and me a split lip. To be fair, we were drunk off our asses and wouldn’t remember the confession or fight if Armin hadn’t showed us the video.

The video got 200 likes on YouTube by the way. How cool is that?

I know my life isn’t the best, but it probably won’t get worse. I shouldn’t think that. Wouldn’t want to jinx myself.

I shake my head to forget the thought as I stop at a red light. There’s not that many people on the road, but enough to keep my attention when driving. A silver BMW pulled up beside me with their windows down and pop music so loud I could hear it over my engine. I look over to see a gorgeous dark-haired girl with long nails and a smirk looking at me with interest from the driver’s seat.

I smile, realizing how long it's been since I've gotten any action, and start to lean over to introduce myself when they drive off and a car honks behind me.

Coming back to my senses, I drive off too fast to be safe but too embarrassed to worry.

Maybe another downside to my life is the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in over four months. I know-- it’s depressing. To be honest, I haven’t thought much of it, but now I realize how long it’s been. No wonder my right wrist has been hurting. I knew it wasn’t because of work.

I slow my bike and pull into the parking lot of my complex as I remember I have Saturday and Sunday off. I grin and hurry into the building, pulling my phone out of my jeans pocket.

I have less than a day to figure out how to spend my weekend so I can get laid. Luckily, my good friend and ex-roommate Connie is always up for a party.

**To: Connie**

_plans 4 the weekend? im thinking club and/or party with girls beer and bong_

I send the text as soon as I get in the elevator and push the button for the fifth floor. I lean against the wall and swing my helmet around, excited over the idea of getting laid. I didn’t realize how much I needed a release until now and, god, was it great to think about.

My phone dinged when the elevator stopped, and I checked it as I walked out.

**From: Connie**

_cant. essay due nx wk and i didnt start yet ):_

My phone let off another ding while I started to unlock my door. This time it was a text from Connie’s girlfriend and another one of my close friends.

**From: Sasha**

_No talking to Connie until his work is done!!!!_

I make a face at my phone and toss it on the table by the door with my phone and helmet, not bothering to text anyone else.

Other than Connie (and sometimes Sasha), I have no one else to go out with. I have a few other friends, but none of them were as good of wingmen as Connie was. Armin hated the bar scene, Eren would do everything he could to make sure I didn’t get laid, and all the other friends I have aren’t close enough to invite out. Besides, if Connie had a lot of work for school, the rest of them probably did too.

Most of my friends are in their final year of college. Some, like Eren’s sister Mikasa, are interning at dictatorship companies. Others, like Connie, are working their asses off to get a good grade. Sometimes, I hated that I was the only one to miss out on this “stepping stone of life” (as my father had put it) because it left me out of the loop. But I knew that if I went, the only thing that would change would be the amount of debt I was in.

Oh well. No need to waste a weekend.

Without a wingman or designated driver, there’s no reason for me to go out and get shitfaced drunk or try getting laid. But in times like this, I had a secret weapon.

Okay, it’s not a secret.

In fact, most people know about it, but are totally against it and find it gross and dangerous.

But I’ve managed to find a few fun nights through it.

Online dating (fucking?) was something Connie mentioned to me about long before him and Sasha got together. It sounded idiotic, but Connie assured me it was the same as meeting someone in a bar, but usually cleaner and quieter.

The internet isn’t completely gross men in come stained sweatpants. Sometimes, you can find a nice, clean, completely non-serial killer person through a dating site.

Or rather, the site I choose to go to, Craigslist.

Craigslist is one of the greatest websites out there, in my opinion. Sure, there are creeps and perverts but that’s the same on every other site. Not only have I found a few hook ups, but I found a few odd jobs for some extra money and bought some furniture from it.

I grab a beer from my fridge and plop on the couch before picking up my laptop from the coffee table. I put my beer on the table without opening it and started up my laptop.

Once my laptop was on, I open Chrome and head right over to Craigslist. I scroll through the Casual Encounters first, finding nothing but “girls” using caps lock to exclaim how much they want cock in the women for men. The men for men category (Don’t act surprised. Girls are hot and so are guys) is no better. Just a bunch of old men (three of which with pictures of them in lingerie) looking for lemon parties.

The Women Seeking Men category never has much. Usually there’s older women looking for their true love, and this time was no difference. Only five posts were made in the past two weeks and most of them were from women in their 40s.

No thank you.

There’s one post from a girl a few years older than me titled “Weekend Plans ;)”. I click on it eagerly and frown when she requests only fat guys.

Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

My last chance for having fun this weekend relied on the Men Seeking Men category.

It’s usually the better one for me. I mean, once you wade through the men in their sixties asking for twenty year olds and guys trying for love, you can find some pretty decent guys. One time I even managed to find two guys looking for a threesome. That ended up being a fun night.

Sadly, tonight isn’t looking like that one. Most of the current ads are either from someone too old or practically illiterate. But I continued strolling, clicking on the ones that looked interesting or funny as hell. I made sure to print screen one guy looking for someone’s toes to suck so I could send it to Connie later.

After a few minutes of searching, an ad titled “In need of a stress relief” caught my eye. The guy’s description says he’s twenty-one and lives in my town. So far he seems safe. I click on the ad and start reading.

**In need of a stress relief,**

_Hello. I’ve never posted anything like this before, but I figured it would be a good try. I need a stress relief, one that can be ongoing. I don’t want to any one night stands, but with school and work, I have no time for a relationship. We can just be friends if you want. I don’t mind as long as you’re fun._

_And I don’t have a lot of free time so we can’t do something every night. Also, I want to get to know you before anything sexual happens. I prefer you being closer to my age (I’m 21!) and not interested in only sex. If you reply, tell me about yourself and send a picture. I’ll send one back. Thank you! :)_

I smile and nod to myself. His ad looked legit so I click the button to reply. The worry of him being a psychopathic killer crosses my mind, but I push that away as I begin typing.

_Hey whats up? My names Jean, 22. I have the weekend off from work and need something to do lol. I like ur offer. I’ve wanted a fwb but never found one so this is really cool. I hang out with my friends on my days off and work on my motorcycle 2. I spend probably 2 much time watching tv and going out lol. But u said u need a stress relief and I no more than enough ways to get rid of that (most are legal jkjk). I hope I hear back from u ;)_

I attach an older picture of myself standing in the mirror with my shirt off to the email. It wasn’t the best picture—even I can admit it’s pretty douchy. But it shows some of my best characteristics (I wonder how difficult it would be to get a picture of me shirtless with my motorcycle. Or is too much?) and hopefully catches this guy’s interest.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t turn out to be some creep who lives off of Cheetos and lives only his boxers and his mom’s basement. I’m not too picky, but come on, even I have my limits.

I keep my email open and set my laptop on the coffee table. For the rest of the night, I’m content with drinking and watching what horrible shows were on near midnight.

My email is still empty at one in the morning when I decide there’s nothing good left on TV and three empty cans and a plate of a half-eaten pizza sit on the table. I shut off the TV and laptop and head to bed.

I’ll check again in the morning.


	2. It Doesn't Really Mean That I'm Into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is a sarcastic, horny twat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. I had this written for a while, but I've been trying to stay two chapters ahead, so I had to finish writing chapter 4 first. I'm a slow writer sometimes, sorry guys.

My alarm clock is set for eight in the morning, but I never get out until I lay around for another thirty minutes. When I deem myself awake enough to move, I crawl out from under my warm blankets and trudge myself to the bathroom. The damn shower takes six hundred years to warm up and turns cold before I can wash the shampoo from my hair.

Breakfast consists of dry cereal because I noticed yesterday my milk was expired, and I still haven’t gone grocery shopping. I’ll have to remember to do that after work. After breakfast, I still have an hour before I have to head to work, so I grab my phone and check all zero of my text messages.

Wow, how popular can I get?

I plug it in to charge and head back to my couch to watch TV and scroll through Reddit until I have to go. My upcoming weekend comes to mind as my laptop starts up. If I don’t find something to do soon, the next two days will be exactly like this.

Oh wait -- The Craigslist guy.

I open another tab to check my email. Lo and behold, I have three emails. One from YouTube telling me about a bunch of videos I don’t want to watch, one that was supposed to go into the spam folder, and a response from the guy.

He’s a fast responder. So far so good.

I open the email and immediately look at the picture he attached to it and—damn.

Good news, he’s attractive. Really attractive. As in, I have to drag the picture into Google Images to make sure he’s not using a stock photo or something. But nope, it’s real.

The picture showed a tan guy with short black hair that almost looks stupid with the bangs he had parted in the center, but the freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose distracted me from that. He’s wearing a suit and tie that show off broad shoulders, and he’s smiling at the camera with a perfect teeth and excited brown eyes.

People this attractive don’t post personals on Craigslist. It’s like some sort of unspoken rule. Really hot people can find more than enough in real life, and I’m sure this guy could have easily found a friend with benefits if he looked into it.

There has to be something really wrong with him. I look back at his email and start reading, knowing I’ll find something weird. Maybe he’s one of those weirdos into diapers and didn’t want to mention it early on?

_Hi, Jean! My name’s Marco. I go to the University of Sina and study Pre-Med. I also work at Starbucks, and I actually work all afternoon tomorrow (today? Sorry I’m writing this at four a.m. >.<) and Saturday so I’m sorry if I don’t reply as quickly as I should. You own a motorcycle? What kind? I think they’re really cool. What kind of shows do you watch? I usually stick with movies myself, but I love shows like Melissa and Joey and Bob’s Burgers. _

_What kind of ideas do you have for a stress relief? I should tell you that I’m not into drugs and I don’t want to be either._

_And if you want to be friends with benefits, I need to know if you’re okay with it being ongoing? I can’t promise we can do things every weekend because when I’m not working, I’m at school or studying._

_Also, your picture is very nice. I like your hair. I attached a picture from when I went to my cousin’s band concert last month. :)_

I smile to myself and waste no time in writing back to him.

_Whats a hot guy like u doing on a place like craigslist lol. I work at starbucks 2 kinda. I work at target and sometimes have to work the starbucks there :/ Im glad u asked about my bike. It’s a buell blast standard and drives like a dream. Maybe I can take u for a ride some day ;). I mostly watch whatevers on. I watch those shows sometimes and pawn shows a lot and those really stupid shows on tlc. Idk im not picky_

_Im not doing coke off a strippers ass but occasionally Ill pass a joint with my friends but if u don’t want to do it u don’t have to. I definitely want ongoing and its cool if its not every week. U don’t have a weird kink like diapers or water sports do u? cause that’s too much for me._

_And thanks. I like ur picture a lot. u look great in a suit btw ;)_

Maybe it’s a little too flirty and lengthy, but I still send it off with my smile still on my face. Marco so far seemed like a good kid who was probably too busy or shy to ask someone out. I don’t mind if he’s shy. They say the shy ones are better in bed after all.

I open his picture again and try to picture what he looks like under the suit. It’s easy to see he’s got a body with a nice build, but I wonder if he’d have freckles over his back and shoulders and what they would look like if I sucked a hickey against them. What does his voice sound like and is he a screamer?

I push those thoughts away for now and decide to make myself a cup of coffee before I got ready for work.

Fridays were better than Thursdays. Hell, Mondays were better than Thursdays. But on Fridays, I don’t have Eren even close to me. I might see him when I go on break, but that won’t be for a few hours. Until then, I concentrate on making small talk with the customers, scanning their items, and not screwing up or getting angry when someone hands me a hundred dollar bill to pay for a ten dollar item.

On Fridays, Christa works the register in front of me. When it’s slow, she’ll turn around to talk to me.

“I brought your cinnamon bun.” Christa says to me when I get behind the counter. I grin at her. “It’s in the fridge in the back, so you can get it when you go to lunch.”

“Thanks.” I say, turning on the light. The store still isn’t too busy yet, just some old people and families with little kids, so I don’t bother doing anything else. “How was your night?”

“Relaxing. Ymir and I watched Legally Blonde and ate spaghetti until we felt gross.” She giggles and leans against the wall of the register. “How was yours?”

I hum.

“Okay.” I keep my mouth shut about my weak attempts of getting laid. I’m not the kind of guy to brag about meeting someone, especially someone online. “I’m just looking forward to the weekend. I have the whole weekend off. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a weekend off? Too long, that’s how long.”

Christa laughs and turns around quickly when a customer starts setting down their things. I force a smile and greet an old woman who comes by my register a few seconds later. Once they’re gone, it goes quiet again and Christa turns back around.

“So what are you doing this weekend?” She asks. I shrug.

“I don’t know. I might hang out with some friends.” Or a complete stranger I met online if he’s not too shy. “But most of them are dealing with school right now so they might not be able to go out.”

“Hey, shithead.” Oh fuck me over the counter. Eren’s supposed to be on the _other_ side of the store today.

“What the hell are you doing back here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the back today?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. Christa lets out a chuckle.

“Nope. I’m in photos today.” He smirks and I resist the urge to throw pennies at him. “Armin and Mikasa are busy and I know you have the weekend off, so you wanna do something Saturday?”

“With you?” I laugh and shake my head. “Hell no.”

“Cool. I’ll be at your place around seven.” Eren says, leaving before I can say anything. I roll my eyes and throw a pen cap sitting on the desk at him. It misses Eren by an inch and he turns around to flip me off.

“Jackass.” I grumble aloud.

Christa laughs again, reminding me she’s there.

“Does he do that often?” She asks. I nod.

“Since we were in high school.” I scoff and immediately smile when a couple starts setting their things down. I look behind them and see someone else already putting their things on the belt.

Christa already has someone too.

People come out of nowhere here. It’s almost terrifying.

I took my lunch break at three and bought myself one of those disgusting corndogs with some French fries from the corndog shithouse. It tasted like someone poured grease over it, but I ate it anyways while walking to the backroom.

If I wasn’t poor and these weren’t ninety-nine cents, I wouldn’t be stooping this low.

I toss the stick in the trash near the break room door and sit my fries down at one of the empty tables. Paula Dean’s on the TV telling me how to make a chicken dinner with only a few dozen sticks of butter. Amazing!

Paula Dean has been a regular guest here since the remote went missing years ago. No one has bothered to get up and change the channel manually—myself included—so we’re stuck with the wonderful recipes given on the food channel.

During my breaks, I ignore the TV and get my phone from my locker to play Angry Birds or 2048 or whatever game Connie swears I could never beat. He’s right, but I still spend most of my lunch break trying to prove him wrong.

This time, I check my email while peeling at the cinnamon bun Christa saved for me. It’s cold (I don’t trust the microwave with heating it up) but still delicious and able to keep me entertained while my phone turns on.

Two emails this time: One from Amazon with recommendations of what to buy, and one from Marco. I open it without hesitation.

_I like how forward you are haha. I never ridden a motorcycle before, but if you promise I won’t fall off, I’d love to ride with you sometime._

_And oh my gosh, no. I don’t have a diaper kink or water sports or anything gross like that. I don’t think I’m boring when it comes to sex, but I do have my limits haha._

_I’m probably not going to be checking my email much, so here’s my phone number. Text me! :D_

I don’t think I’ve ever saved someone’s number so quickly in my life. My break has fifteen minutes left so I waste no time in sending him a text.

**To: Marco**

_hey its jean. thanks for giving me ur number so early. whats up?_

Is this too desperate? I briefly consider sending it after work, but decide against it. If I’m desperate, so be it. He’s hot and I want to get laid. I send the text off and continue my lunch break eating my unhealthy lunch and watching Paula Dean put too much butter into her cooking.

After an uneventful day of work, I ride my bike home and check my phone while the elevator slowly takes me to the fifth floor.

**From: Marco**

_Was it too soon? Sorry! I just thought it would be easier than email. I was only checking my email so often to see who replied. Everyone besides you were either too old or didn’t reply back. D <_

I laugh at his message and head to my apartment, only bothering to set my helmet on the table before shutting and locking the door again. I don’t like carrying my helmet around when I go grocery shopping and hate carrying liquids in the storage. The first and last time I put groceries there, the soda broke open and split all over my food.

After that incident, I took to walking the ten minutes to the small grocery store nearby. I’d do all day every day to avoid damaging my bike again.

I text Marco back while the elevator takes me back down.

**To: Marco**

_no it’s cool. im glad u asked. u seem realy cool to talk to_

Five minutes later, my phone dings with a message. I pull it from my hoodie pocket and read over the message quickly, not wanting to get distracted on the street.

**From: Marco**

_It’s a good thing you texted me now. I just took a break from studying. What’s up?_

He uses perfect grammar all the time. I can’t tell if that makes him annoying, smart, or cute. Since he hasn’t said anything about my texting, I decide on smart.

**To: Marco**

_grocery shoping. ive been living on leftover corndogs and dry cereal for the last few days. u?_

I grab a basket and start going over what I should get in my head. Beer, milk, bread probably, pizza rolls? My phone rings again.

**From: Marco**

_Nothing haha. I’m lying down and resisting the urge to burn my text books._

I pick up a bag of pizza rolls and tossed it into my basket. Those frozen burritos made to give people gas were next to them. I grab a bag of them too, because why the hell not, before replying.

**To: Marco**

_wat year r u in again?_

He wrote back before I could even put my phone in my pocket.

**From: Marco**

_I’m in my second year of Pre-Med. Are you in college?_

**To: Marco**

_no. 2 much money and trouble for me._

He didn’t reply immediately again, so I continue shopping. I end up circling for five minutes until I find the condoms and quickly grab a box and a bottle of lube. Even if nothing happens this weekend, I’ll be prepared.

I decide to head back and grab some extra beer since Eren might be showing up tomorrow. My phone dings, and I grab it while wondering which beer Eren hated the most.

**From: Marco**

_I wish I could have done that. I’m spending so much money for a major I hate. :(_

Another message came in before I finished reading that one.

**From: Marco**

_Hey, weird question, but can you send me a picture of you by the cereal section? I’m sorry if that’s a weird request, but my friend is worried about me and wants to make sure you’re real. It was his idea and I can take a picture too if you want._

That’s actually a good idea. And I should probably pick up some cereal while I’m at it. I nod at my phone and head over to the cereal section. Thankfully, no one is there so I quickly snap a selfie with some Bran Flakes and send it to Marco.

**To: Marco**

_I und_

_its no problem. can u send me a pic of u looking cool w/ ur a text books?_

I grab a box of Cheerios and decide to spoil myself by getting a bag of Doritos when Marco texts back.

He sent a picture of himself wearing sunglasses on his head and holding up a science book with a bridge on it. He’s giving a small smile and winking at the camera. It’s obviously posed and he looks ridiculous but cute. I smile and read his message.

**From: Marco**

_I don’t know how to look cool with a text book haha. I hope that works. And it’s good to know you’re real._

**To Marco:**

_u look great. ;) im happy 2 no ur not a gross old man_

I finished up my shopping and went to the register to check out. My phone made a ding while I wait for the checkout girl to scan my things.

**From: Marco**

_Haha I can promise you I’m far from old. I’m really glad you’re not a creep either. :)_

I put my phone away after reading it, deciding to reply during my walk home. Thankfully, the girl was quick and didn’t attempt small talk with me, allowing me to leave and text Marco back before he went back to studying.

**To: Marco**

_so wat r ur plans for the weekend?_

**From: Marco**

_Work tomorrow until 5 :( and then probably studying. I have a quiz next Friday so I’m kind of crash studying this weekend so I don’t have to next week._

I move to reply when he sends another text.

**From: Marco**

_Sorry if you wanted to hang out this weekend! I might be able to sometime this week if you want._

**To: Marco**

_no thats ok. im hanging out w/ a friend tomorrow anyways. but yeah id love to hang out sumtime :)_

I smile as I send off the message, hoping Marco would tell I was excited to see him. The elevator opens and I walk inside and press the button for the fifth floor.

He hasn’t texted back when I unlock my front door and throw my keys on the table. He still hasn’t when I start putting groceries away. I end up gnawing at my lip and hoping he hadn’t gone back to studying without sending off a goodbye.

While I wait, I send a text to Eren.

**To: Eren**

_i got beer. bring something 2morrow or dont come at all_

I sit on the couch and turn on the TV while waiting for a reply. TLC has a stupid show about making cupcakes, and I decide to watch it to pass the time. I hate this channel and ninety percent of its shows, but it’s one of the only things that are semi entertaining.

Ten minutes have passed and Marco still hasn’t replied. Should I be getting worried? No. He’s probably gone back to studying. Or maybe his phone died. Or he fell asleep.

My phone dings five minutes later, and I suddenly feel less tense and more excited until I notice it’s from Eren.

**From: Eren**

_Ill bring what I want_

**To: Eren**

_fuck u_

**From: Eren**

_If you ask politely_

I roll my eyes and ignore him, concentrating again on the boring show. My phone lets out another ding before the woman on screen can start decorating her cupcake. I prepare myself for a text fight with Eren.

**From: Marco**

Oh thank god.

_Um, awkward question, but you’ve been with a guy before, right?_

I raise an eyebrow at his question. That was a dumb question for someone looking for a friend with benefits. Unless he was a virgin. I smirk at the silly idea.

**To: Marco**

_a few yeah. have u?_

And now I wait.

My phone dings as soon as I turn it off.

Okay, no waiting.

**From: Marco**

_Yeah, of course. I’m just making sure. Um, do you think maybe we should share what we’re into?_

I like this guy a lot already. He doesn’t wait to get to the main point of this new friendship.

**To: Marco**

_hell yeah defiantly. im not really into vanilla stuff lol. guess im a little kinky. like i like biting and scratching but not to an extreme with blood and shit. u?_

Hopefully he doesn’t get freaked out. I left out some stuff, like my interest in bondage, toys, and how dirty and rough I like to get, but we’ll talk about that when it gets there. My phone rings a few moments later.

**From: Marco**

_That’s great!_

That’s all he wrote. I have to admit, I’m blushing a little bit at his message. It was so vague I knew that couldn’t just be all wanted to say. Another message comes through soon enough.

**From: Marco**

_I mean, that’s good. I kind of like things rough. Biting is a definite turn on for me, same with scratching. There’s something else I really enjoy, but I feel silly writing it out, so I’ll tell you it in person. :) Do you like to top or bottom?_

I have no idea what he could be keeping a secret, but I already desperately want to know. Is it bondage? Whipping? Choking?

My cock twitches at the thought of biting him. I wonder what he looks like tied up and whining to be touched. I lick my lips and type a message back to him.

**To: Marco**

_i can promise to give u a lot of bites and scratches ;) aww wont u give me a little hint? i promise not to tell loljk. i like both btw whichever u prefer im fine with it_

I wait patiently for him to text me back, my mind stirring over what his secret could be and what it would be like to have this attractive man in bed. Or on the couch. Or against the wall. Anywhere would be great.  

Maybe he’d want to trade nudes later. That would complete my night.

My phone rings again.

**From: Marco**

_I prefer topping, but it’s always fun to mix things up. I think it depends a bit on the mood. :)_

If he’s wanting to top, I need to see what I’ll be dealing with. I start typing out a message asking for a picture when my phone dings again.

**From: Marco**

_I hate to cut this short, but I have to get back to studying. I was only supposed to take a ten minute break and it’s been over an hour now :P I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jean! :D_

Fuck my life.

I delete my message and let out a sigh. Oh well. I can always try tomorrow. The good news is I didn’t get too worked up. Although I think I’m getting so desperate those frozen burritos would look good enough to fuck soon.

Not wanting to be mean, I type out another message to Marco.

**To: Marco**

_ok. sleep tight :)_

**Author's Note:**

> Jean is an embarrassment and I'm sorry if he or anything else in this story made you cringe.  
> Also this is my first time writing present tense, so please tell me if I made any mistakes.


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